


A Rose by Any Other Name

by WolfRune20855



Series: The Basics of Broom Magic [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M, Family Dynamics, Gen, Grandmothers, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, it's october, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfRune20855/pseuds/WolfRune20855
Summary: Katie meets her estranged grandmother for tea.
Relationships: Katie Bell/Marcus Flint
Series: The Basics of Broom Magic [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179386
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	A Rose by Any Other Name

The crest stared up at Katie from the wax seal on the back of the letter. A single rose surrounded by thorns emblazoned in red wax. Written in the back of the envelope was her name, penned in gold ink. Inside, was an invitation. An invitation from her grandmother. _The esteemed Dowager Viscountess Cordelia Evangaline Aldabella Parkinson Rosier cordially requests the honor of Miss Katherine Felicity Bell’s company for afternoon tea_. An invitation for tea. A proper, engraved invitation for tea. 

It had been waiting on her windowsill when she’d awoken, left by Cordelia’s owl in the middle of the night. Katie didn’t know what to do with it. Was she supposed to send a reply? She wasn’t sure. Did a witch send a reply to this type of thing? It couldn’t be good manners to just show up unannounced. Helena would know, but she was busy dealing with vendors today. There was a slight chance that Elliot would know how to properly respond to a letter—he was kind-of dating that Shacklebolt witch—but then she’d have to explain the invitation. He’d have questions about why their estranged grandmother was suddenly contacting her, and Katie wasn’t sure if she could tell him the news her father had shared with her.

Elliot would try to convince her, and, despite everything, Katie wanted to go. She was curious. Why was Cordelia reaching out to her now after all these years? Why was she reaching out to _her_ at all? Elliot and Gilbert were the better-known grandchildren. 

There was really only one person she could trust to give her the advice she needed in a timely manner: _Nilsy._ Quickly pulling on the robes she’d worn the day before, Katie headed to the floo. Nilsy would know what to do.

* * *

Marcus was surprised that Nilsy didn’t drag him out of bed. Granted, he wasn’t really one to laze around all morning, but Nilsy believed that sleeping in past eight was a sin against magic. If the clock on Marcus’s bedside table was telling the truth, it was eight-thirty-seven. Marcus was struck with a momentary fear that something had happened to the elf. Jumping out of bed, Marcus grabbed his robe from his wardrobe and descended the stairs. 

He could hear Nilsy talking as he made his way through the furnished living room, though who he’d be talking to was beyond Marcus. He liked the new furnishings a lot more than the old ones, even if the couches did have an oddly shaped lump in the arm. The second-hand goods from the lower alleys livened up the flat. They made it feel like somewhere Marcus wanted to live. 

Marcus froze as he entered the kitchen. A souffle was cooking in the oven. Nilsy sat at the table in the back corner, peering over Katie’s shoulder as she wrote a letter. “No. No. You’ll offend her if you respond so brusquely.” Nilsy shook his head in disapproval. He glanced up at Marcus a moment later. “Thirty-eight minutes, sir,” he said disapprovingly, giving Marcus his disappointed stare. 

“You didn’t wake me up,” Marcus protested. 

“And here I thought I was a highly-trained house-elf, not a glorified alarm clock.” Marcus was pretty sure Nilsy was the only elf in the world who was sarcastic. The idea of a house-elf talking back and bossing their employer around was unheard of in most of his friends’ households. Although Marcus was fairly certain that most house-elves ran their wizard’s lives, they were just better at being subtle about it. 

“Most employers would fire you for saying that.” 

“I work for your mother, Master Marcus, not you.” It was the truth. Nilsy had worked for Merriam’s family, being sent along with her when they sold her off to his father. Marcus had tried to get him to go with his mother when she left, but Nilsy took his orders from his mother. Merriam wanted Nilsy to keep an eye on Marcus, so that was what Nilsy did—looking out for whatever he believed were Marcus’s best interests.

Marcus pulled out the chair beside Katie and sat down. She was writing a letter using better handwriting than Marcus thought was possible. The words looped together in proper cursive. Her usual handwriting looked more like chicken scratch. Most people couldn’t read it, but Marcus was something of an expert on the subject. “What’re you doing?” 

“My grandmother invited me to tea this afternoon,” Katie answered. 

“I’m assuming we’re not talking about the lovely Patricia here.” Marcus was surprised when Katie nodded. It was strange to think that Katie had relatives amongst the pureblood elite. It was even stranger to think that Aldon Rosier was one of them. “Are you going?”

“I am,” Katie confirmed. “I didn’t know how to properly respond, though, so Nilsy’s helping me.” She held out the note for the house-elf to see. “What about this?” 

Nilsy read over it thoughtfully. “It will do.” Taking the note from Katie, he folded it into thirds. “I don’t suppose you have a family seal on hand, do you?” 

Katie shook her head. “No.”

The satisfied glimmer in Nilsy’s eyes was all the warning Marcus needed to snatch the dragon seal out of the elf’s hands the moment it appeared. “Don’t you dare! We are not sending Katie’s letter to her grandmother with the Flint family seal.” He may as well declare his intentions for Katie then and there if he did that. Not that Marcus had any intentions. Romantic intentions would ruin their close friendship. He didn’t want that to happen. Nope. Not at all. 

(Maybe if he kept telling himself that, it would make it true.)

“Why not?” Katie asked. 

Marcus was relieved Katie didn’t realize what Nilsy’s actions would’ve meant. He answered with a partial-truth, “It would’ve been a declaration of allegiance from my house to yours.” He glared at Nilsy, who didn’t look remorseful in the slightest. “Given that I am not the head of my house, and you are technically disowned, it would be a very bad idea.” 

“Miss Katie cannot send a letter without a seal,” Nilsy clucked. Snapping his fingers, he summoned a small wooden wax seal stamp. “This one’s from your mother’s shop. It shall do in place of a family crest.” Nilsy magically summoned wax and stamped it with the seal. With a flick of his fingers, the response vanished. He stared down Katie and Marcus. “Why don’t the two of you move into the dining room? The souffle should be ready in a moment.”

“You don’t have to-”

“If you finish that statement, Miss Katie, I shall require you here for breakfast every morning this week.” Katie didn’t finish the statement. Nilsy smiled. “Good. Now, run along. You both have very busy days ahead of you.”

* * *

A well-dressed house-elf was waiting for Katie the moment that she stepped out of the floo. With a snap of her fingers, the elf vanished the soot from Katie’s robes. She’d worn the plum robes that Leanne had designed for her. They were her best set, even if they leaned more towards the plain side. Leanne had insisted the design was classic. Katie hoped she was right about that. 

“Follow me, Miss,” squeaked the elf. 

Katie followed the elf through the floo parlor, into the Rosier Dower Cottage, although who in their right mind would call the house her grandmother resided in a cottage was beyond Katie. It was bigger than the Bell’s three-bedroom house. They passed by a formal dining room, several parlors, and a drawing-room. The paintings on the walls were all of landscapes. Witches frolicked at the beach. Wizards studied in a library. Children darted through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley. As they walked through the house, Katie noticed the people in the paintings were moving from frame to frame, some of them following her as she walked. It was amazing. She’d had no idea paintings could do that.

The elf led her into the garden, which was somehow warm despite it being mid-October. Roses surrounded the garden, the scent nearly overwhelming Katie. In the middle, Cordelia Rosier sat at a small table underneath an awning. Katie got her first good look at her grandmother in her life. 

Her first thought was that she looked old. Her features were delicate to the point of frailness, but there was a strength in her. Her silver hair was swept up in a bun, tucked away underneath a hat. Katie felt Cordelia’s cold eyes skim over her, taking in her appearance for all that it was worth.

“Miss Katherine Bell,” the elf curtsied as she introduced Katie. Panic briefly flared in Katie’s mind as she wondered if she should curtsy too. Did people curtsy at tea? She decided against it, choosing to remain standing instead. 

“My goodness you’re tall,” Cordelia said with a smile. She gestured to the chair before Katie. “Please sit.” Katie did as instructed, not sure what else she could do. Cordelia continued to talk. “I suppose that comes from your father. We’ll just have to find you a wizard who’s taller than yourself.” 

Katie blinked. “What?”

“My mother always said that a witch should never marry a wizard who is shorter than herself. It’s bad luck.” 

It wasn’t the explanation Katie was expecting from Cordelia. She wasn’t even sure what she’d been asking about, really—the comment on her height, the comment about marriage, the general familiarity that didn’t seem right in the situation. All of them, maybe. 

“Of course,” Cordelia continued, “things are different for your generation. These days a witch can marry another witch. I’m a little envious.” Cordelia winked at Katie. “Not that I would give up Helena or Evan for the world. Elias, on the other hand…” 

“I’m sorry,” Katie apologized as she interrupted. Her brain was having trouble processing what was going on. “What are you doing?”

“Talking,” Cordelia answered as if it were obvious. “I would think it was obvious, Katherine.”

“Katie,” she automatically corrected. “And I know that you’re talking. It’s just… why?”

“Ah.” Cordelia nodded. Understanding shone in her blue eyes. “You want to know why I asked you to tea when the Rosier family has spent the last two decades pretending like you and your brothers don’t exist.” She paused as Katie nodded. “That was Elias’s idea. I would’ve liked to have known you and your brothers when you were children, but it wasn’t possible. Elias and I had to appear united after Helena’s actions. Anything else would’ve brought the downfall of the Rosier name.”

“And now?”

“Now, Elias is dead. Evan has taken control of the family. I am officially out of mourning. There is nothing to stop me from getting in touch with my granddaughter if I so desire.” Katie supposed Cordelia’s reasoning made sense. Tea magically appeared before them. Cordelia arched an eyebrow. “Did Helena teach you how to properly pour?” She took Katie’s silence as an answer. “I suppose it was too much to ask her to teach you pureblood values after she was disowned. We’ll have to fix that. How does Tuesday work for you?” 

“Tuesday?”

“For your lessons,” Cordelia answered. “You are a Rosier, dear. The only female Rosier in your generation. You do not have the luxuries that Aldon, or Elliot, or Gilbert are afforded. How you act reflects on the family.”

Katie felt anger stir in her belly. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I’m not a Rosier,” she said through clenched teeth. “I am a Bell.” 

“I adore your father, Katherine-”

“ _Katie_.”

“Katie,” Cordelia repeated firmly, “I adore Franklin—I really do—but being a Bell doesn’t mean anything. Not yet. Maybe many generations down the road, after your brothers help to establish the family, the name will begin to have meaning. Right now, it is only known amongst quidditch fanatics.” 

“You disowned us,” Katie pointed out.

“Elias disowned you. Evan understands the practicality of bringing you into the family—even Franklin. My son is loyal to Lord Riddle, but his party makes exceptions for truly talented muggleborns like your father. Mark my words, it will be fixed before the end of the year.” 

The words coming from Cordelia’s mouth disturbed Katie, even if they were true. Given enough money and a half-decent explanation, most of the pureblood elite would accept the Bells presence. They’d never see them as equals, but they’d make polite conversation. The idea made Katie feel sick to her stomach. 

“What makes you think I want anything to do with the Rosiers?” Katie asked. She didn’t. She didn’t want anything to do with the Rosiers, she told herself. She was completely content with where she was in life. She was a halfblood, and she didn’t have any illusions of grandeur. She kept her head down. She didn’t pick fights. She was a good student. She spent most of her time locked in her workshop, hidden away from the rest of the world. All that she wanted to do was make brooms. She didn’t want anything to do with the Rosiers.

And yet…

And yet she’d accepted Cordelia’s invitation.

She may not have wanted anything to do with the Rosiers in theory, but it was a very different thing in practice. Her grandmother had sent her an invitation. She’d declared an interest in Katie. She wanted to get to know her. Despite everything she felt—despite all the resentment she held towards most purebloods—she wanted to know her grandmother. She wanted to know her family. 

“Because I want to make my family whole again,” Cordelia said. 

Despite herself, Katie felt her chest warm. Cordelia cared. She wanted to know her now. If Katie refused her, she didn’t think she’d get another chance. “I’m never going to be like your friends’ granddaughters. You can’t change me.”

“I didn’t honestly expect to,” Cordelia said. “I want you to be equipped for whatever this world sends your way. Besides, all of this–” She waved her hand at the roses surrounded them. "–is your heritage, whether you like it or not. I want to teach you."

“All I really want to do is make brooms,” Katie said. She didn’t know why the world seemed to have started turning on its head recently. First her mother with her matchmaking and now her grandmother with her invitation to tea. Things were changing for Katie, whether or not she liked it. She may as well begin to embrace it. She didn’t think she’d survive otherwise. 

“You’re a broom maker like Franklin?” Cordelia asked, surprised. 

“Yep. I play quidditch too. Kind of.”

Cordelia smiled. “I always wanted to be better at flying than I was. Elias was quite the flyer back in his prime. Helena got it from him. Evan had the misfortune of taking after me in that regard. Elias was happy about Helena, though. He coached her to help her make the quidditch team. The first girl on Slytherin's team in nearly a hundred years. He was proud of that.” She spoke of her dead husband with the same fondness a person would speak of their dead pet. “I think that’s part of the reason he reacted so violently to Helena’s choosing Franklin. She was always closer to Elias than me. None of his relationships were the same afterward.” 

Cordelia sighed, tactfully changing the subject before Katie could ask questions about her mother’s relationship with her late grandfather. “Aldon’s decent, but he’s nowhere near as good as your brothers. I’ve been listening to their games on the wireless. They’re quite riveting.” 

“They are,” Katie agreed. 

At the last one against the Cannons, Elliot had broken the opposing seeker’s arm with a bludger while Gilbert had sent the other bludger flying towards the snitch. The small golden ball had exploded at the contact. They’d called the game after that, docking the Falcons one-hundred-and-fifty points and giving Gilbert a penalty. It was complete bullshit, in Katie’s opinion, but all anyone was talking about was how Gilbert Bell blew up a snitch. No one seemed to care that the Cannons won. The obliteration of the snitch was a moment that would go down in quidditch history. 

“I would like to go to the next one, but, well, we are not officially family yet.” A smile teased Cordelia’s lips. “Susannah Greengrass would try to remove me from several committees for supporting that granddaughter of hers. Not to mention the young Flint heir’s playing now. We don’t want to insult that family again. No. It’s best not to go.”

“What do you mean about the Flints?” 

Cordelia waved her hand in dismissal. “It’s ancient history. Aldon should’ve smoothed over any particularly nasty problems at Hogwarts. Although, he’s not very good at making friends. He has a tendency to come on a bit too strongly—doesn’t do very well taking _no_ as an answer when it comes to alliances. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

“I’ve never met him,” Katie pointed out. He’d never even come into Quality Quidditch Supplies. She couldn’t pick him out in a crowd if she wanted to. 

“That won’t do,” Cordelia said. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I’ll have to pull a few strings to get him out of school for the weekend, but it shouldn’t be too hard, what with that Triwizard Tournament nonsense going on. Nobody’s going to be paying attention to him.” She paused. “Do you think the first Sunday in November would work for you?”

“I’m going to Elliot and Gilbert’s game.” _And Marcus’s,_ but she didn’t say that. Apparently, the Rosiers weren’t on good terms with the Flints. Even if she’d wanted to tell her grandmother about her friendship with Marcus, she didn’t think it would go over very well. Ancient history was still history. 

“The one after that, then?” Katie shrugged. Cordelia shook her head. “Don’t shrug, Katie. It’s not polite. Answer verbally.” 

“I don’t have anything planned.”

“Good. Good.” With a flick of her wand, Cordelia summoned what looked like a daily planner. “Tea on the second Sunday in November. I expect you to be there promptly at three-thirty. Wear something similar to what you’re wearing now.” Cordelia set down her quill, studying Katie’s outfit for a moment. “I don’t recognize the design, although it does seem rather well made. Too nice for Maulkin’s.”

“It was a gift from a friend,” Katie explained. “She’s a designer.”

“Quite the eye for color, and with a classic flair. Too many designers are insisting on a modern look right now. I haven’t bought robes from Twilfitt in three months because they insist on using dragonhide in everything. Honestly, what’s wrong with good, old-fashioned silk?” Cordelia let out an exasperated sigh. “This friend of yours, does she have a name?”

“Leanne,” Katie answered. “Lock. Leanne Lock.” 

“Leanne Lock. That has a good ring to it,” Cordelia tested Leanne’s name on her tongue. “Bring her around some time next week. I want to see her portfolio.”

“Are you serious?” 

“Oh, darling, I never joke about fashion. It’s in poor taste.” Cordelia’s look suggested that joking about fashion was a crime punishable by death. “So, Tuesday?”

“Um, yeah.” Katie nodded. She couldn’t believe that she was agreeing to annual tea with her grandmother. She’s never imagined it would be a possibility. “Tuesday sounds good.” 

She’d have to rearrange her schedule a little, but getting to know her grandmother would be worth it. She didn’t think that there was a person alive quite as extraordinary as Cordelia Rosier. What other witch would challenge the power of the SOW party to bring her family back together? Katie was certain of one thing: whatever happened from here on out was sure to make headlines. 

She hoped that she was ready for it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Strong Lady Violet vibes coming from Cordelia. She knows exactly what to do to get her family back and she's not about to let anyone stop her.
> 
> Nilsy's doing his best to take matters into his own hands, even if he keeps getting thwarted by these two idiots. We stan Nilsy.
> 
> I have no idea how Wizarding nobility works, but Evan Rosier is a Viscount. It tied in nicely with the Rosier French roots, and I like the sound of it. It also gives them a more "official" title whereas most of the purebloods seem to be referred to as simply Lord or Lady. Also, I'm working under the assumption that the Rosier-line is male-entailed, which means that bringing the Bells back into the family won't affect inheritance despite Helena being older. 
> 
> In case you are wondering about the order of inheritance (with the members of the family who are currently alive), it's Evan, Aldon, Elliot, Gilbert, Katie. So, there's really no chance that Katie's going to be inheriting anything. If everyone were to somehow miraculously die, all titles would pass to the family that they are most closely aligned to, the Lestranges.


End file.
